Lord Voldemort and his Fascinations
by TheUnregisteredAnimagi
Summary: Did you know that a wizarding serial killer and creator of the dark times likes to watch documentaries? Neither did I. Quite amusing, actually. Apparently he also keeps a diary. Told in Voldy's point of view. One shot. AU. OOC.


**Hello people! Yes, I'm back (not that I left or anything)! Well, the good news is that I found a more efficient way of uploading chapters/stories on fanfiction! So now I don't have to go around editing the punctuation every second word. Joy!**

**Before you read this, I should probably raise to your awareness that this is a completely random story, and only exists due to me feeling utterly bored and immensely annoyed at this stupid subject called English.**

**And lastly, the standard I-don't-own-this-only-the-plot disclaimer applies :)**

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Lord Voldemort was in his luxurious 21st century muggle suite in this place called 'Las Vegas', drinking hot chocolate, which he had begun to have grown very fond of, while looking out of his bay window, observing the creative fashion that the muggles who walked by had come up with on Christmas day. Which, by the way, was that day. He was also writing in his diary, which he had learned to love, and was called Gertrude after his pet guinea pig which died from the killing curse that he misaimed at her instead of this pig by the name of Harry Potter. At least, he was pretty sure he was a pig.

_Dearest Gertrude,_

_Today I saw this walking nuisance wearing a red costume that I heard being called 'Santa'. Quite a hideous name, actually. I mean, who in their right mind would call their kid 'Santa'? Anyway, apparently he's very popular because little midget muggle kids were swarming around him like he was Willy Wonka or something. I've always loved Willy Wonka. Makes really good chocolate. I hope Severus buys me some this year for Christmas. Oh Merlin! That's tonight! I haven't bought my fellow retarded (excuse my language) Death Eaters their christmas socks! Or made dinner! Aaaahh well! They can just have the left over Thai curry from this morning._

_Speaking of Thai curry, I made it all by myself. Mummy would be proud of me. It tasted a bit funny though. You know, I heard they use chicken, but I replaced it with chocolate frogs. For some odd reason, it was brown in colour. Must have put a tad too much chocolate in. Next time I'll use a bit less… I don't know… maybe like 500g instead of 2 kg? Yep. Sounds good. And then I'll have the rest for dessert. Bloody fantastic. Did I mention I have desert three times a day, one after each meal? Aahh… the advantages of being a world known wizard…_

_Uh-oh. The fellytone is ringing. Toodlepip!_

He pranced to the telephone and pressed a button. Immediately, a monotone voice rung through the earpiece.

"Lord Voldemort?" asked Severus Snape through the telephone.

"How many times have I told you, Severus? Call me Bond. James Bond," he whined.

"Uhh…Bond?"

"Yes, Bond. I was watching the veletision the other day, you see. And then a man popped up and said '_My name is Bond, James Bond'_ and I thought it would sound a bit lame if I said _'My name is Voldemort, Lord Voldemort' _. Quite pathetic, you know. So I just stuck to the original," Voldemort stated proudly.

"Erm… right," replied Snape, now questioning the sanity of his master.

"So I'll see you tonight."

"You will? I mean, yeah, of couse you will… hehe…," he chuckled nervously.

"I would hope so, or else you would miss out on that thai curry!" exclaimed Lord Voldemort,

"What thai curry?" he asked, now seriously considering booking in the Dark Lord at the local mental hospital, which he had heard to be great for psychopaths.

"Well… I have to go now, Gertrude's getting impatient. Bye!"

"Bye"

"Bye"

"Bye"

"Bye," and on that kind note, the great wizard hung up and gently walked back the way he had come, to the antique chaise beside the bay window, ready to resume his diary entry.

_Well you see Gertrude, if there is one thing that I like about Harry Potter, it is his great ability to insult Severus Snape. Greasy slimeball indeed! I should really give him some of my shampoo to use. Its called called 'Dove Damage Therapy' and its advisable for those who need intensive repair. I know that I'm bald and all, but I can see the hair sprouting across the top of my head ever so slightly. It may just be my hallucinations, but you know, what can I say? I'm just an optimistic person. Anyways, gtg! Talk to ya soon, Gerty! Sweet dreams!_

And with that, the Dark Lord left his diary to fend for herself, and promptly turned on the 'veletision', as he called it, at exactly 5:30 like he did every other evening. Who would have thought that one of the most powerful wizards of all time watched TV?! Sadly, nobody but me.

Now, you see, many people such as myself and quite hopefully yourself appreciate the existence of David Attenborough, and if you do not, then I suggest you should start doing so before Lord Voldemort decides to make you his next victim. Because quite frankly, he just so happens to be overly obsessed with that man and his documentaries. But of course, he much prefers James Bond over Mr. Attenborough, although the latter comes in at a close second on the scale.

Anyway, the wizard got so engrossed in the television, that he completely forgot about the existence of Christmas, until of course, his faithful servant knocked on the door, which he conveniently ignored. After all, who would want to choose to see Severus Snape when a man as great as David Attenborough was on TV?

Apparently, Lord Voldemort himself.

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**Review please! Thanks :D**


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